


when the man comes around

by livbartlet



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-23 04:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20236777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livbartlet/pseuds/livbartlet
Summary: As always, this was written for a prompt, and is the only Stargate thing I've ever written. Which is dumb, because I love Stargate? IDK. Here, have some Sheppard being sulky.Sheppard is sitting on his favorite pier, kind of hiding. The last mission was crazy, they lost people. Atlantis is covered in haze so thick he can't see the mainland. The person who finally comes looking for him is the last one he saw coming.





	when the man comes around

He's listening to Cash, because that usually helps, and he's hiding on his favorite pier, at a far edge of Atlantis, because that usually helps, too.

Bare feet hanging over the edge, headphones blocking out the world, he could almost imagine that this is a different sort of retreat. Surfer Sheppard, or something.

He wishes.

Too far north for surfing, anyway.

Johnny's gravelly life-worn voice whisper-sings of alpha and omega and the end of the world, and hell if that isn't how John himself is feeling - downright fatalistic and old.

He's taking this one hard. Harder than almost anything else, and he's not quite sure why. Because it was his people but the mission wasn't under his command? Maybe. He's of half a mind to hunt down McKay and see where he's at on the whole "get Atlantis back to Pegasus" thing, because these joint missions with SGC are killing him - he needs that millions-of-light-years separation, needs his own goddamn galaxy back.

Fog shrouds the coast, hugs the ocean, creeps through the lower levels of Atlantis - human civilization is hidden, and John can almost imagine he - and Atlantis - are back where they belong. But it's a temporary illusion, slowly lifted by broadening daylight - his reprieve is almost over. With the day come responsibilities.

Everyone's had the good sense to leave him be for the moment - it's just him and the ocean and the city and Johnny Cash and it's working - some tightly coiled piece of him is feeling a little less wound up.

He's gathering himself to move and meet the day when he hears boots coming down the pier behind him. From the gait he knows it isn't McKay or Ronan or even Teyla - all the most likely suspects for sticking a friendly nose into his oceanside sulk. He half entertains the idea of ignoring whoever it is, but that idea goes straight to hell when suddenly a warm body is too close to his and those boots are swinging over the ocean next to his bare feet.

Warring instincts keep John still for a moment before he turns to face Mitchell. "I should punch your lights out."

"I know."

"I still could."

"Yep. But you won't."

His fingers twist into the buttons of Mitchell's uniform jacket, pulling. "Don't be too sure of that, Cam." 

Mitchell leans into the pull, does some pulling of his own. "You can punch me later, John."


End file.
